


Unseen

by tres_mechante



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, M/M, reference to spouse abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-17
Updated: 2011-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-22 18:13:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tres_mechante/pseuds/tres_mechante
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are none so blind as those who will not see. Four people who looked, and one who saw.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unseen

**Author's Note:**

> The Rounds of Kink prompt was 'intimacy'. It was harder to write than I thought it would be, particular for John and Sherlock. But I hope this fulfills the spirit of the request.

**  
_[D.I. Lestrade, Sgt. Donovan]_   
**

_Come at once. Bring bibles. Different translations. SH_

Lestrade and Donovan arrived at the same time, each carrying ann assortment of bibles, meeting outside John's hospital room door. No sooner had Lestrade reached for the door handle than the door was flung open and the whirlwind known as Sherlock Holmes erupted from the room.

"Excellent, you received my text." He plucked the books from their arms and began flipping through them, discarding one after the other until he found what he was looking for. "This is the one," he said before whirling back to re-enter the room.

Lestrade and Donovan looked at each other in confusion. "That was weird even for him," murmured Lestrade.

"What do you suppose he was looking for?" asked Donovan.

Lestrade shrugged. "Let's find out."

They entered the room to find Holmes berating the nurse about something. Once he noticed them, however, he abandoned the nurse and came over to them.

"Look, Holmes, we have better things to do than be your personal librarians, so unless this relates to finding who attacked Dr. Watson--"

"Keep your voice down," snarled Holmes softly, ushering out of the room. "Devon Ball, not his real name of course, a small-time drug dealer with delusions of grandeur. He tried to rob the clinic and unfortunately John got between him and the door. He tends to ply his trade near that new bar where the pseudo sparkly vampires hang out. You'll have no trouble finding him as his nose has a split where all three nose rings were torn out during his altercation with John. Despite the injury the lure of a profit keep him from hiding."

Donovan stared at him in confusion. "You got all that from flipping through a bible?" She almost cringed at the look of disdain on his face.

"The Bible is for me. I believe it is customary for one to consult such things when keeping a vigil at a friend's hospital bed."

Wanting to forestall any argument, Lestrade interrupted. "Thank you, we'll look into it."

Homes nodded once and turned away, but suddenly turned back. "You should probably know you only have 43 hours to find him."

"What happens after 43 hours?" asked Donovan.

"By that time John will be sufficiently recovered that I will no longer need to be constantly by his side. In point of fact, I will mostly likely be back on the street looking to alleviate my boredom, if you take my meaning." His smile was distinctly shark-like. "Find him, or I will."

He re-entered the room and pushed the door to close behind him. Donovan huffed at the closed door. "That's just like the freak, strutting around making demands and wanting to control everything."

Lestrade began gathering up the discarded Bibles. "Just leave it. We'll follow up on this Devon Ball person and be done with it." He handed her the books and walked away, leaving her to follow while juggling the load in her arms.

{}

"Behave yourself, Sherlock and let her do her job." John's glare held little heat and Sherlock's grumble was mostly done out of habit. Once the nurse had left, Sherlock jumped up from his seat to rearrange the covers to John's preference.

Sherlock pulled his chair as close to the head of the bed as possible and reached over to take John's hand in his, thumb rubbing over the soft wrist. "Shall we pick up where we left off," he asked. "I believe we originally had plans for last night…"

"You can't mean--"

"What? No! Of course not, well, not precisely. Obviously you're in no condition for anything… vigorous." He grinned and propped the Bible on the bed. "However, that doesn't mean we can't indulge in something a little less athletic but no less stimulating."

John's expression of fond exasperation was marred by a huge yawn.

"Close your eyes, John. You need to rest if you plan to be out of here come morning." He resettled the coverings and leaned his elbows on the bed, book in hand. When John continued to watch him, Sherlock said, "Have you forgotten how to close your eyes?"

"Git," said John even as he dutifully settled back and closed his eyes. He smiled as Sherlock grasped his hand once more.

Sherlock began to read, randomly selecting passages, his rich deep voice turning sacred texts into tools of seduction. “Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth, for thy love is better than wine.” He stopped reading and took note of John's expression. "Why are you grinning like that?"

"Only you, Sherlock, would use a book of the Bible for seduction."

"I'm fairly certain that seduction was the whole point of this particular book," retorted Sherlock. "But perhaps you are right and we should leave such things until you are home."

John nodded his agreement without opening is eyes and smiled at the soft kiss placed on his forehead. He knew without asking that Sherlock would stay with him through the night. He drifted to sleep feeling gentle fingers caressing the sensitive skin at his wrist.

~~~ ~ ~~~

 **  
_[Mrs. Hudson]_   
**

Mrs. Hudson enjoyed the little coffee shop, especially if she was able to get a table by the window. Mrs. Turner, who usually went on and on about her 'married ones', was oddly silent about them.

"You're rather quiet today," commented Mrs. Hudson. "You looked a bit peaked."

"Not much sleep, I'm afraid." Mrs. Turner looked around quickly and leaned in a bit, lowering voice. "They were at it again last night."

"Oh! You mean they were…"

"No! It was a row – just horrible. It went on for hours, and then there was crockery breaking in the kitchen." She took a steadying drink from her cup. "I shudder to think what I'll find up there. How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"You know, the noise and the-the _things_ brought into the flat?"

"Oh, it's not so bad, really. They're good boys. And Doctor Watson is ever so patient with him."

"He'd have to be. The man must be some sort of saint."

"I'd like to think so but…" Mrs. Hudson looked around and leaned in, lowering her voice. "I think the reason he lets himself be pushed around is he's one of those _submissives_ Mrs. Warden was telling us about."

"No… their relationship isn't like _that_ is it?"

Mrs. Hudson shrugged her shoulders. "Well, he does whatever he's told – always running errands or running after that man."

"Mr. Holmes isn't… violent is he? I mean, he can be so _uncontrolled_ at times, and Doctor Watson is such a dear…"

"No, of course not. But…"

"But what? You can't not finish that sentence," snapped Mrs. Turner.

"He is awfully bossy, Mr. Holmes I mean. Don't get me wrong, I'm terribly fond of that boy, but I shudder to think what he must put poor Doctor Watson through when they're alone."

The little bell above the door rang and they looked up to see Doctor Watson himself come through the door. He ordered a coffee and pastry and then left again – in a hurry as always – but mercifully hadn't seen them sitting in the corner table.

After a moment of silence, Mrs. Hudson and Mrs. Turner moved on to the topic of how to fix things between the married ones.

{}

John trudged up the stairs and into the flat. He pulled off his jacket and hung it up, or tried to. The jacket fell to the ground but he couldn't be bothered to pick it up.

"John?"

"No, it's Anderson."

Silence.

"What do you want, Sherlock?"

"Tea would be nice."

John sighed. "Yeah, it would be," he said as he walked past Sherlock and up to his room. "Can't always have what we want, though, can we?"

Once safely in his room, he closed the door and curled up on the bed with a pillow hugged to his chest. He may have drifted into a light doze because he was suddenly aware that Sherlock was curled around him as though to provide shelter.

"Someone died," murmured Sherlock.

John leaned back into the safety of the embrace. "No. At least, not yet. It will happen though if things don't change."

“Abuse, then.”

John said nothing, just hugged the pillow tighter.

Sherlock pressed closer against John’s back, doing his best to shelter him. “Can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped, John, no matter how much you want to, or how much they need it.”

“You’re not helping,” John huffed.

“Then tell me what _will_. I can’t see you like this and do _nothing_.” Sherlock stilled. “Oh. This… this is what you feel.”

John wriggled around until he faced Sherlock. “She’s convinced she needs him. The one time someone did call police she said she'd had a fall and refused to say anything against him, even though the bastard wasn't even in the same room." He leaned into his lover's comforting warmth. "They offered her protection, transport to a shelter or at least a clinic to see to her injuries. She just told them to get out – yelled until they left."

They were quiet for a while, holding one another close. "Is there anything I can do to help _you_?"

John's smile was genuine, if a bit sad. "Just keep doing what you're doing right now," he said. "You - _we_ can't fix everything, Sherlock. But as soppy as it sounds, as long as we're together…"

"Forever, John." Pulled back long enough to pull out his mobile and turn it off. "Rest. I'll keep watch."

~~~ ~ ~~~

 **  
_[Mycroft Holmes]_   
**

He watched the various video feeds as the cameras followed the progress of his brother and Dr. Watson. They appeared to be rather damp from falling into the Thames, but otherwise none the worse for their little misadventure, certainly no injuries requiring urgent care.

They also gave every appearance of having a row. Dr. Watson's expression did not bode well for whatever Sherlock had done that resulted in their current bedraggled condition.

He did love his brother – most of the time – but there was no denying Sherlock's ability to _annoy_ people. Mycroft watched as they approached 221B and stood in front of the door, yelling. Well, Doctor Watson was yelling as he followed a very quiet Sherlock through the door.

Mycroft sighed with regret at having removed the interior surveillance. He was vaguely curious as to whether Sherlock would accept the chastisement or lash out at his flat mate.

He switched off the monitor and rose from his chair. Whatever happened would have to be dealt with another time; the situation in Prague had flared up again for some unknown reason.

{}

John carefully walked from the kitchen to the bath, trying not to spill any tea as he went. The quick shower had washed the Thames from his skin and hair, but now he wanted a long soak to get rid of the chill.

He paused at the entrance to the bathroom. The room was illuminated by several lit candles and the curtain around the tub was partially to protect from any errant draft from the window. He entered the room and nudged the door closed behind him. The tea was set on the small stool beside the tub and John quickly shed his robe.

"Budge up," he said to Sherlock. "No, the other way."

Carefully settling into the water behind Sherlock, he gave a contented sigh and leaned back, legs on either side of the other man. He wrapped his arms around his lover and pulled him back against his chest. Sherlock all but purred as he slid deeper into the water until he could rest more comfortably against John.

They lay there for a while, soaking up the heat and quiet, Sherlock uncharacteristically pliant.

"Almost forgot the tea," said John. But when he started to lift his hand away from Sherlock, it was held tight against Sherlock's chest, right over his heart.

"I am sorry, you know." Sherlock lifted John's hand to his lips. "I never meant for it to happen."

"You never do, love," sighed John. "You're a little like Carlson's puppy sometimes, all excited for the chase with no thought to anything except catching whatever has your attention."

Sherlock snorted at the description but was hard-pressed to deny its accuracy. "Why do you stay with me, then, if I keep leading you on a merry chase?"

John pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Sherlock's head. "Fortunately, I'm rather fond of puppies," he said, pulling his hand free and reaching for the mug of tea, which he handed to the man in his arms. He then proceeded to card his fingers through Sherlock's curls with one hand while reaching below the water with the other and playfully tugging on Sherlock's cock. "Now, drink your tea like a good boy and maybe I'll rub your tummy later. How does that sound?"

"Woof," was Sherlock's answer.

~~~ ~ ~~~

 **  
_[Anthea]_   
**

"John! John, come quickly!"

John hurried down the stairs, hastily tying his robe as he went and almost collided with Sherlock at the bottom. "What's happened?""

Sherlock stood aside and allowed John to see into the kitchen.

"Did you – did you do this?" asked John, taking a tentative step inside.

The table was clear of experiments and other clutter. It was instead covered with a crisp white cloth and china. A small vase of flowers sat in the centre of the table. His nose twitched as the most delicious aroma reached him, and he realized the oven – the source of the delicious smells – was on low.

Sherlock started to speak a few times and finally said, "Perhaps Mrs. Hudson…?" although he did not sound even remotely convinced. "Ah!" he exclaimed and went to the table where a small white envelope was propped against the equally white vase.

The expression on Sherlock's face was…interesting, but did not afford John any clue as to its content. He plucked the single sheet of paper – a computer generated note rather than handwritten – and had a feeling his expression matched Sherlock's.

"This is…" John's voice trailed off, unsure how to react to the current situation.

"Unexpected," said Sherlock as he wrapped his arms around John and rested his head on the shorter man's shoulder while they re-read the note.

 _SH & JW,  
Dinner is from Angelo (he assures they are your favorites); refrigerator is restocked.  
Lestrade et al had a break in an old case; they are busy following leads around London and surrounding area.  
Mrs. Hudson is enjoying spa weekend with Mrs. Turner, courtesy of winning a contest.  
Mr. Holmes is in Prague and incommunicado for at least 74 hours.  
Mobiles and laptops to be returned in 72 hours._

 _Happy Anniversary  
~A_

 

 **  
_{end}_   
**


End file.
